


To Read a Writer

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And maybe Patrick might look up and catch Pete's eye, stare hard enough that any normal person would go back to reading, only Pete Wentz wasn't a normal person and kept right on staring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Read a Writer

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts: earworm, literature.

Patrick wasn't a book person. He wasn't dumb but the whole reading was fundamental thing wasn't so much for him. The thing was his ideas never really stopped flowing, and introducing a whole other person's ideas into the mix just made him want to use those ideas, even if they didn't quite fit with his. Pete, though, he was into it. He went a little nuts over first-edition Fitzgerald and bought the entire British box set for Harry Potter once the seventh book got published. Writers inspired his writing, made pathways in the jumbled mess of his brain clear up.

It was Opposite Town when it came to Pete and Patrick. But that wasn't weird for them, and in all things, they adapted.

Like, Pete might be reading to himself, looking up over the top of his book and escaping the internet for fifteen minutes while Patrick played around on his laptop, headphones in place. And maybe the book would stop catching Pete's interest because he was pretty ADD like that, and he'd catch himself watching Patrick mouth along with something he'd just written -- some merge of Patrick's music with Pete's words.

And maybe Patrick might look up and catch Pete's eye, stare hard enough that any normal person would go back to reading, only Pete Wentz wasn't a normal person and kept right on staring. And maybe Patrick would ask what Pete was reading and Pete would hold up Discipline and Punish, which was way less kinky than the title suggested, and read _In its function, the power to punish is not essentially different from that of curing or educating._

And maybe Patrick would make a face at that, wrinkle up his nose and sing it back to Pete, a whole chorus out of Foucault's words, and Pete's face would light up.

And maybe Patrick would say he liked Pete's words better because they inspired him more, and Pete would try to argue the difference between genius and emo, but not too hard because he'd also throw himself the room to attack Patrick. And Patrick would only just barely get the laptop out of the way and would act angrier than he actually was about the lapful of Wentz he'd somehow earned because he knew well-enough that encouraging this behavior on a regular basis shouldn't be done.

Pete might lick Patrick's neck, sloppy and wet, might bite his ear, might whisper some of his own words that Patrick would file away for inspiration later, might bite Patrick's lip right where Patrick's teeth had been moments earlier, might wiggle his hand between them and rock his hips, and when Patrick finally caught his breath a second later asking _wait, wait, what are you doing?_, Pete might get his hand inside Patrick's pants and say, _getting your music stuck in my head_, wrapping his hand around Patrick's dick and making Patrick moan a discordant note. _Just like you get off to my words._

And Pete might bite and lick his way into Patrick's mouth, pressed desperate against Patrick's hip, stroking in time with every thrust, and they'd collapse, a sticky crescendo all over Pete's hand and inside their pants.

And Patrick might get forty more ideas, and Pete might start writing on every piece of paper, and shoving the scraps at Patrick before going back to his book to get inspired all over again. And Patrick would get to use those words: got to use and misuse and foist them on the public.

Patrick wasn't much of a reader, but he was content with that; he already had ideas that fit with his.


End file.
